Have you noticed how easy it is to judge people’s age by their clothes?
Last week saw the first real cold day of winter, always heralded by middle-aged postmen in shorts.
The over-seventies don’t need winter. They wear scarves and gloves whenever the temperature in Cheshire drops below Dubai and are obsessed by ‘wind-chill factor’.
It’s 22 degrees, but with the wind-chill factor, it feels like two.
“Where are my gloves?”
Thirty-somethings don’t own gloves. They drink expensive wine in the freezing cold outside local bars and restaurants like off-duty celebrities at an alpine retreat.
Teenagers wear nothing at all. No matter how wet or cold the night may be, they can handle it. Huskies may drop dead from hypothermia before teenagers wear coats.
Observe the queue outside any nightclub. Icicles may be dangling from the gutter, but you won’t see a long skirt anywhere.
Conditions insufferable to an Inuit require nothing more than a short-sleeved top and a tattoo.
How will they ‘feel the benefit’ when they go out?